Remembering Seven Years

Because while it's been a year since I joined Fimfiction, I've spent a lot more time in Internet fandoms.

It all started back in March of 2008, when I was a big fan of Lilo & Stitch. The ride since then has been fascinating, exciting, maddening, call it what you will. But personally, looking back on it, one word comes to my mind more than any other.

Bittersweet.

2009 was a strange year for me. It was one of my last years at high school. Until then, I'd actually enjoyed going to school, where I'd made plenty of mates and did well in studies. But that year, for the first time in what, unfortunately, would prove to be just the first of several dark patches, I'd honestly gone half-mad with clinical depression.

... Truly, I cannot express how much I owe my mother's tireless support in those days. Otherwise I shudder to think what sort of effect this could've had on my adult life.

Somehow, without resorting to medication, I managed to keep up a public facade and wade my way through a demanding workload, eventually earning some decent marks in my finals. It's something I'm still proud of, yet you couldn't pay me to do it again. No matter how bad any blue period of mine may get, never since have they reached the same depths.

However, quite apart from everyone who stood by in my life this side of the computer screen, it happens to be so that I also made it thanks to the bright light that was one particular individual, whom I had the good fortune to encounter thanks to our shared love of one Disney movie.

I know a few people here who consider me to be a "genius", for reasons I still find difficult to fathom at times. Yet this guy, this guy was the real deal. He was a highly talented artist, an amazingly prolific commenter – virtually every piece of Lilo & Stitch fanwork from 2008-2009 was subject to his opinion, most of it witty, charming and thoughtful – and a good listener.

Today, on my seventh anniversary, I want to pay tribute to him.

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Now, I won't pretend that we were the very closest of friends. There were other people, some of whom were also my friends and can still be found on this very website, with whom he enjoyed a closer and perhaps more significant relationship. That said, we were fairly close. And I'm all the more grateful for it, given that our first encounter was a little rocky. We first met while reviewing a (sadly now-defunct) fanfic by a writer who'd later become friends with both of us.

Being a person of strong opinions and not always easy to get along with, I'm ashamed to admit that I, well, kind of mishandled the conversation. Though we agreed in principle on the story's strengths and weakness, I started acting condescendingly at his more humorous attitude, asking that he show some seriousness. Yes, sadly, that was the sort of fan I could be.

Still, I liked him, I really did. And he had the grace to act polite and respectful throughout. After this meeting on fanfiction.net, my new acquaintance went on to set up a DA account, in which he brought forth his wonderful artwork to the world. There, I got to know him.

Out of respect for his right to divulge and withhold personal information, I don't wish to give away too much, but anyone curious to find out more is free to visit his DA profile and gallery, which I'll post a link to at the bottom of this journal.

Suffice to say, though, that he hadn't led an easy life. A bus crash at a young age had left him with permanent injuries, not to mention that he lost his older brother in that accident, a brother whom, to make matters worse, he always believed was his parents' favourite of their three children.

As you can imagine, his example made me realise that if he could overcome such heavy adversity, my own comparatively small problems shouldn't feel like such a challenge. Maybe we were not the bestest of best mates, yet simply being his friend, knowing him and what he'd accomplished, was enough to help me, too.

... Yet like many great people, he didn't always have faith in himself.

The pressure would get to him as it would to anyone else. Events in his tumultuous home life would make him sour and grim. Several times, he'd log off his DA account for days. He also had trouble seeing that he was a good artist. Like Claude Monet, my friend was never satisfied in his work.

Artwork which turned out so beautifully, and not just for a man dealing with impaired eyesight or unreliable fingers. We all gave him sincere praise, yet doubt always lurked in his heart. One time, he even deleted his entire account to set up a new one, the old drawings lost forever.

Following this event, I took care to save many of his pieces to a Word document on my computer. However, perhaps I needn't worry about that any longer. It's been nearly four years now since I last had any word from my friend.

Due to his physical condition, everyone who knew him realised this was a constant possibility. And yet his life seemed to be taking a turn for the better. He'd got married just a year prior, and after he checked into hospital, his wife left a message on his journal to keep us informed.

A part of me would love to think that he chose to get up, put it all behind, and embrace leading a quiet life away from the drama and craze of the Internet, like a superhero who's taken off their mask to retire from the public eye, hidden in plain sight.

... But another part, far greater and more all-consuming, doesn't believe this is the case.

So, every year on March 24th, I find myself torn between two conflicting emotions. On one hand, I'm glad that for so long now, I've had the opportunity to do what I love, together with some nice people from around the world who share my interests. On the other, I cannot help feeling a certain pervasive bitterness.

Will the work we do here be deleted after just a few years? What if I were to suddenly vanish off the face of the Internet? Take nothing for granted, such things are perfectly plausible. How to let everyone know? And if they cared, for how long would they remember to, especially in this age of fleeting, superficial contact and of instant gratification?

Sometimes, my sentiments of doubt and futility are hard to keep under control. Any belief I have in my fellow Man's inherent goodness or compassion is, frankly, limited. But I strive to prove myself wrong. Which is why, twice a year, on his birthday and at Christmas, I still leave a comment on his DA profile, though the chances of a reply grow slimmer with time.

To show that I did indeed care for my friend, Janosz Quentin a.k.a. "Qaz".

Aloha,
~VoxAdam

http://evilrabbit123.deviantart.com/